Mission For France
by btamamura
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy needs to be escorted to Austria to meet with Roderich. Who can make sure he reaches there? Why, the Three...Four...Five Musketeers! Rated for Francis' behaviour later in the story


**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer, Hetalia or the characters. They are the property of their respective owners._

**Notes: **_**I found myself thinking of how the nations have direct contact with the ones who rule each country in Hetalia, and I then had my thoughts lead to **__What if I had the Musketeers with France on a mission?__** and this fic was born.**_

**Names: **_**Francis - France  
Roderich - Austria  
Feliciano - North Italy (in this he's Little Italy/Chibitalia)  
Elizabeta - Hungary  
Arthur - England**_

_**I did choose to refer to the nations by their country names, but because only certain people are to know that they are nations, I included the use of their official human names for everyone else to address them as.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

France was sitting in a field, pouting again. England had just served up another dish of teasing and jeering about how pathetic he was. He let out a sigh and pulled his knees in, hugging them to his chest. He had to admit that some of what his younger neighbour from across the channel had said was true. His King was a childish man who would even go so far as to suck on his thumb if he didn't get what he wanted, and his Prime Minister was often scheming against said monarch. His Queen, while she loved her husband dearly, was also being chased by one of England's own men. (That was what had led him to speak with England in the first place.)

Not only was there trouble amongst the monarchy, but even the King's own men seemed to have their moments of incompetence. While it was his duty, as a nation, to stand by the King's side and do as ordered, he did spend some time with the lovely Queen.

He could feel his boss was calling again, so he rose to his feet and made his way back to his capital called Paris.

Inside the Louvre, the Cardinal was once again scheming against the King while the Queen was the only one who really noticed at that time. France would love to tell Richelieu to take a hike, but he was wary of the woman who'd brought him to power, the Queen Mother. He knew her temper (which amazed him since Italy, which is the nation that is her home, is an utter coward) and knew not to cross her.

Louis XIII had requested the presence of Monsieur de Treville, the Captain of the King's Musketeers. France knew what this meant, a new mission was in order. _I wonder what it will be about this time..._

"Captain de Treville, I want you to send your Musketeers on a mission." He then turned to France. "And you are to accompany them this time. I want you to tell everyone yourself just how gallant my Musketeers truly are."

"You heard from the English then, Sire?" France questioned.

"Indeed I did, and I am getting tired of them saying what they want. My Musketeers shall escort you to Austria to make the peace delegations required. Now, get going."

He bowed politely and followed after de Treville. _I'll show Arthur once and for all that we do have what it takes! We're not always so pathetic!_

de Treville led France to his mansion. "I suspect the Three Musketeers will be asleep. But, let's go and tell Albert of the mission."

"Albert? But, as I recall, your Musketeers were Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan."

"There's a reason why you haven't met him before today. Follow me."

He did, right into a workshop. Sitting at the table with a book in his hand was a petit male with long, curly, blond hair. He didn't appear to be more than a metre tall (though he was by five centimetres). He noted the petit man was wearing the blue uniform, meaning he must be of a high rank in the Musketeers.

"Albert, we have a mission."

The miniature man lowered his book and turned to face his Captain. "Certainly, Sir. I can go and wake the Musketeers."

"Perfect." He then gestured to France. "This is Francis Bonnefoy, he has been assisting His Majesty with serious matters of running the Kingdom. Francis, this is Albert de Parmagnan, the best Musketeer in my squad."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Bonnefoy," Albert greeted with a bow, his hat removed.

"The pleasure is all mine," France replied. He was a nation, but he did have a human name as well, it helped to keep his identity a secret.

"Please excuse me, I'll go and alert the Musketeers about our mission." He replaced his hat and made his way out of the room.

de Treville turned to France. "Albert acts as background support to ensure our missions are successful."

"Oh, I see." _It's a good thing I am accompanying them this time, I must admit I am now curious about Albert._

All six of them were riding through the countryside, a quick pace applied. "So, how come you're joining us today, Francis?" D'Artagnan questioned.

"I was ordered by His Majesty to assist with this mission. It would appear something is troubling him about it."

"What exactly are we doing, anyway?"

"I believe I already helped explain it when we first left Paris," Albert sighed. "We are escorting Monsieur Bonnefoy to speak with a person named Roderich in regards to a peace treaty between France and Austria. Cardinal Richelieu is certain to send his Guards and Milady so they can keep us from reaching Austria. If we are unable to do as ordered, then there is a chance there will be a war."

"But, why are we going there?" Porthos questioned.

"Allow me to answer this. Roderich is much like myself, he has close ties to the monarchy of Austria. Because our Queen is from the royal family of Austria, I am to keep in contact with Roderich to ensure peace will be kept between us. Now, I must tell you, one of my younger relatives is living with him. He is acting as a servant, but he doesn't seem to mind because he is treated well enough. I'm just saying this so you won't be so alarmed when you see a child sweeping the floors."

As the sun was starting to set, it was decided for everyone to set up camp and rest up for the night. France could smell something tasty in the air and saw the Three Musketeers and D'Artagnan licking their lips. "What is that smell? It's pretty good."

"Well, wait until you try it!" Athos gestured to Albert who sat by the campfire and was stirring contents in a pot. "Albert is truly a fine cook."

"You don't say..."

"Even our enemies believe so."

"Enemies? Oh, you mean the Cardinal's Guards and Milady de Winter?"

"Yes. What we're about to have for dinner is also used for ammunition."

"Is that so?" He'd never heard of food being used as ammunition, and he'd served all of the royalty since he was first discovered.

"It's ready now!" Albert called from the fire. He was dishing the food into six bowls. "I decided to experiment with this sauce. This is a very important mission." He then tipped the contents of a vial into the remainder. "Now, I'm prepared with more ammunition for if the Guards decide to interfere." He carried the bowls over. "I am uncertain if this is to your liking, Monsieur Bonnefoy."

"It is fine for you to address me as _Francis_, Albert." He accepted his bowl and a fork. "Merci beaucoup."

They all sat there, eating dinner. The Musketeers all offered Albert compliments for his cooking. "How about you, Francis? What do you think of it?" Aramis questioned.

"I must say that this is very delicious. I think I now understand Feliciano's desire of pasta. If you have anymore left over, would you be willing to share some with him?"

Albert shook his head. "I am afraid I have already added sleeping powder to the rest of the food. But, when we're nearing Roderich's residence, I could maybe brew up some more for Feliciano to taste. Judging by his name, he's Italian, correct?"

"You could say that..."

Everyone was sleeping under the stars. Because they were used to ambushes, they slept light. So, it was no surprise that they woke up when they heard a rustling in the bushes.

"Francis, stay behind us!" D'Artagnan ordered. "Albert, cover the rear!"

Swords were drawn, all waiting anxiously for the arrival of whoever disturbed them from their slumber. There was no time to relax, who knew when the enemy would strike?

Out came five men in red uniforms, all with swords drawn and ready for action! They charged at the Musketeers. "Hand over that man, and nobody has to get hurt!" the tallest of the Guards declared.

"We'll never hand him over to you!" D'Artagnan exclaimed, his face turning red from rage. "Musketeers...CHARGE!"

Albert stayed by France while the others charged at the Guards and engaged in a duel. "Do not worry, Francis, we will not allow you to be taken." He replaced his sword and pulled out a loaded blunderbuss. "I shall now offer a demonstration of one of my sauces used specifically for ammunition."

"I must admit I am curious..." Francis replied quietly. "But, they don't seem to be in easy to aim range. How will you get them?"

"You'll see." He took aim at the high trunk of a tree right near the battlefield, and pulled the trigger.

Francis watched in amazement as the one ball broke into five equal pieces and landed in the mouths of the Guards. He waited, what would happen?

The duel was over once the Guards ran out of the clearing, flames coming from their mouths, all of them screaming for water.

"Oh la la! I never expected to see that! That was incredible, Albert!"

The petit male smiled. "If it wasn't for the Musketeers facing them in the duel the way they were, that most likely would not have worked out as I'd hoped. They deserve credit too."

"Well, it would seem that Arthur will have a lot to take back when we next see each other!"

"Who is Arthur?" D'Artagnan asked.

"He helps the King of England, and he always gives me a difficult time."

"Oh."

The next morning, once the sun had risen, they were on the move again. They weren't that far from Roderich's residence when the Guards attacked once again. "By order of the Cardinal, hand over Francis Bonnefoy!"

"We are bringing him to Austria by order of His Majesty! Let us pass, Guard!" D'Artagnan yelled back.

"Guards, seize them!" Milady called from nearby.

"I thought she would be nearby..." Albert muttered.

D'Artagnan turned to Albert. "We'll hold off the Guards, you take Francis to see Roderich. We'll meet you there."

"Alright." He turned to Francis. "Follow me, we'll try to find another way past them." He waited until the Musketeers and Guards were engaged in battle, then led France away.

Milady had noticed that. _I'd better take care of them before they reach their destination. If they meet with Roderich, then peace between France and Austria will continue, and His Excellency will not be pleased._ She snuck after them. If she couldn't stop them at the border, then she'd have to ambush them right outside Roderich's house.

"Roderich lives over here. That large house is his. Oh! That's Feliciano!"

Albert saw a small child sweeping the floor, they appeared to be wearing a dress, apron and kerchief. "Isn't Feliciano a boy?"

"He doesn't mind dressing this way, it makes him very cute anyway."

He shrugged and looked around. It wasn't his business what people did in their personal lives anyway, not unless they invited him into it. "We should watch out, Milady will surely try to trap us before we reach the house."

France also looked around, though his was for another reason. His idea of making peace with Austria was basically assaulting him in a sexual manner, and there was that girl Hungary who made it difficult to get close enough. "Looks like the coast is clear, mon ami."

"I agree. Still, let's stay on guard." He walked alongside France and as they neared the house, a woman stepped from out of nowhere and scooped up the child. "Milady!"

The child started to wail, realising he was in danger. "I'm sorry, I'll do anything, please don't hurt me!"

"Feliciano!" France was not pleased. "Milady de Winter, unhand that boy right now!"

"Only if you come with me!" Milady demanded. "And what do you mean _boy_? Clearly this is a little girl!"

"Don't hurt me! I'll do anything!" the child continued to cry.

"This is going too far, Milady!" Albert exclaimed. "Release Feliciano this second!" He brought out a blunderbuss.

"What are you doing, Albert? She has Feliciano!"

"Trust me, Francis, please trust me. It is alright, I won't allow any harm to come to him." He took aim and fired.

Milady opened her mouth to make another demand, allowing the ammunition a point of entry. She fell asleep instantly, falling to the ground. The boy landed on top of her. He was still wiping his eyes.

France hurried right to the tiny Italian and picked him up. "It's alright, Feliciano, your big brother is here."

Albert watched as the boy hugged Francis and smiled. "You've arrived safe and sound, Francis. Our mission was successful."

The Italian child looked to the Musketeer. "Is he a friend of yours, Big Brother France?"

"Around civillians, please use my human name," he whispered. "But, yes, he is a friend. His name is Albert de Parmagnan, and he's one of the King's Musketeers."

"Wow..."

The Musketeers met up at Austria's house, they waited while France and Austria had their meeting. They could hear some yelling of _No, stay back, you idiot!_ coming from Austria. They knew it wasn't France saying it.

"Um, excuse me...Big Brother Francis mentioned that one of you can make pasta for a meal. Mr. Roderich never allows me to have it. Can you make some pasta for a meal for me? Please?" the tiny Italian child requested.

"Looks like that's your cue, Albert," D'Artagnan responded. "Something tells me we'll have plenty of time." Once he finished saying that, more screaming and chaos sounded from the meeting room.

A young woman approached the group. "It sounds like I may have to step in and settle their delegation." She seemed to be smiling, but there was a fierce undertone to her voice giving a hint to some suppressed anger. That, and she was clutching a frying pan tightly.

"Miss Elizabeta. We can have pasta for a meal. One of Big Brother's friends will make some," the Italian child said happily.

She forgot her rage and turned to the boy. "That sounds like a fine idea." Her smile was much friendlier, and the Musketeers all felt themselves calm. "I can show the cook to the kitchen."

Albert rose to his feet. "If you don't mind, Mademoiselle."

"Certainly. Oh, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Elizabeta, I'm from Hungary. I help Little Ita around the house."

"_Little Ita_? Who's that?" Porthos asked.

"Oh, it's my nickname for Feliciano here because he's an Italian child." She turned to Albert. "Now then, if you'll follow me..."

He did follow her out of the room and through the large house.

"I witnessed through the window that you rescued Little Ita from that woman who was after Francis. Any longer, and I would've struck myself. I don't really like Francis, but nobody is allowed to hurt Little Ita."

He noticed she sounded angry again. "It sounds like you're quite maternal to him."

"He grew up with his brothers, aside from some years with his grandfather. When he returned following his grandfather's death, his brothers tended to give him a difficult time. They love him, but they bully him. When I was a child, it wasn't rare for me to defend the weaker children, so when I found out about his past, I thought he'd need a mother as he grew up. He might be a servant, but even Roderich cares about him in a paternal manner." She gestured to a room. "Here is the kitchen...excuse me, I didn't get your name."

"I am Albert de Parmagnan."

"Albert...it is nice to meet you then."

The smell of the pasta filled the house. Little Italy smiled as the scent filled his nostrils. "That smells very yummy!"

"It's the same sauce as last night. I hope he makes enough for everyone," Porthos commented.

"He will. We won't be needing to worry about the Guards on the way back now that the peace delegations have been made, so there'll be more than enough for everyone to taste," D'Artagnan assured.

The scent changed, resulting in rumbling stomachs and watering mouths. Everyone was eager to taste it.

Following a hearty meal of spaghetti bolognaise, it was time to return to Paris. Albert gave Hungary the recipe. "Feliciano really seemed to like this, so with this, it will be easy to cook it for him."

"Thank you very much, Albert." She turned to Little Italy. "What do you say, Little Ita?"

"Thank you, Albert. For the pasta and for saving me from that mean lady."

He patted the boy on top of the head and smiled. "It's quite alright, Feliciano. Take care, alright?"

"I will."

France stepped out, he appeared a little roughed up. Austria fixed his cravat. "The meeting is over, we have made our agreements. Thank goodness we don't have to do this again for a long time."

Hungary gripped a frying pan again. "Would you like me to take care of him, Mr. Roderich?"

"It's fine, Elizabeta, it's over now." Austria turned to the Musketeers. "I don't have to tell you how important it is to get Francis back to Paris. I also feel I don't need to tell you to continue being as loyal to our Anne as you are."

"You can count on us to get Francis back to Paris, and we shall continue to serve Her Majesty until the day we die," D'Artagnan responded.

Austria nodded. "Very good. Well, you'd better begin your journey."

One day later, they were back in Paris. "I'll return to my workshop now. I had an idea for an invention we could use next mission," Albert stated. He turned his mule to change the direction he was riding in.

"Albert doesn't like getting medals for some reason," Athos explained.

"Oh, that explains why I've never seen him in the throne room with the rest of you," France commented. "It would be good for His Majesty to know of his services."

"No. Albert doesn't want that much recognition. Her Majesty knows all of it well, and even comments he deserves a medal. But, we all know how he feels about them, so we leave him be," D'Artagnan responded.

_Well, if that's what he wants. But, I know I will never forget him and how he helped these last few days._

England and France were at it again. France was yelling at England to keep one of his royals from flirting with his Queen. "It's not like it matters, does it? Your King is too stupid to notice!"

"I would thank you to cease insulting my King."

"And his men, his Musketeers, they're even worse!"

"Shut up this instant! You have never seen them in action! Certainly, the Three Musketeers have their moments, but they have someone to help. The greatest of the Musketeers, Albert de Parmagnan. With his many inventions, he is able to help the Musketeers succeed."

"Albert? Oh yes, I'd heard about him. The Duke of Buckingham says fine things about him. I guess I'll allow him to be an exception."

England still won the bickering war, but France didn't feel as bad. At least an exception was made, that was something.


End file.
